


The Call Denied

by twofoldAxiom



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Godstuck, sort-of godstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofoldAxiom/pseuds/twofoldAxiom
Summary: Tavros gets a visit from a literal god and redirects a call to adventure.





	The Call Denied

**Author's Note:**

> Done for HSADS' interpretation event, hence why it's so short. Forgot to post it is all, whoops.

Your name is Tavros Nitram, and this is the first time you’ve ever seen a god up close and personal.

To be truthful, this is the first time you’ve ever seen a god, and he’s not even the god you believe in.

He’s not what you expect of the the Heir, God of Wind and Shade. He looks young, like you do; maybe a little taller, which is pretty hard for a six sweep old unless you’re Equius. He doesn’t have ink and crude oil running down from his eyes or smeared across his hands, or his widely-smiling, jagged-toothed mouth. He has horns, blessedly; lovely swoops like the arcs of a ripple, swept back from his head, but his eyes aren’t solid blue like you expected, not like the rhinestone-eyed statues of him sold in the streets to help tourists find their way.

He  _ does _ have a myriad of ghostly hands that form and reform in a corona around him, though, like the ring of hands strung around his statues. Flashes of images gleam in their palms, shifting in the corners of your vision. You don’t look too closely at them; the visions he holds are as liable to change as the formations of clouds. His solid hands are solid white, like bleached bone and starlight, as is the rest of his skin.

And, he’s sitting cross-legged on your desk, petting a gamegrub and cooing at it like an idiot.

“You sure do have a lot of pets, don’t you?” He says, and you startle and nearly knock over a whole stack of FLARPing manuals with your horns. He laughs like windchimes and a promise of adventure, uncrosses his legs and looks at you critically. “I’m kidding, I’ve seen these before. They’re cute, but kinda strike me as inefficient, you know?”

“Um.” You don’t know, and you don’t know what to  _ say _ , either. 

He laughs again, lower this time, like you just told him a dirty secret. “It’s fine, dude. I can call you dude, right?”

“ _ Um. _ ” You make that stupid noise again and he wrinkles his nose, and you’ve seen that look on Vriska when she’s about to call you something like a whiny pissgrub, so you square your shoulders and look him in the eye. “I think I, uh, would be a lot more comfortable, if you didn’t act so familiar, and also, told me, um, what you’re doing. Here. In my hive.”

(His eyes are glowing, and, to be truthful, you’re freaking the fuck out.)

(You really hope he’s not the smiting sort of god.)

“Right.” He still doesn’t look impressed, but he slides off your desk and straightens up. The swirling aurora of hands rearranges itself around him, some trailing after where he walks and fading like a spray of mist. “Right, yeah, it’s about that time of the century! You ever heard of the Quest?”

“Maybe?” You’ve heard of the Quest, but maybe if you sound like you’re questioning everything he’ll get annoyed and leave. You don’t want to do any quests, except maybe the ones when you FLARP. 

He purses his lips again instead, before smiling widely, a gleam in his too-bright eyes. “But you don’t want to do it.”

“Um.”

“It’s fiiiiiiiine.” It’s not fine, that tone has alarm screamers going off in your pan. He waves you off. “Never thought I’d see the day a FLARPer would refuse the Call to the Quest, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Uh, right.” You don’t know what’s going to happen next, but he smiles disarmingly, in that you feel like you’ve just had your weapon knocked out of your hands, and he’s aiming for the throat next. “So, that means you’ll just go, and ask someone who wants to do the Quest, right?”

“Of course!”

You don’t think it’s going to be that easy.

“But I’m going to try to convince you.”

_ There it is. _

“Convince me?” You at least don’t stutter, which you think is pretty cool, since you’re facing a literal god. “Wouldn’t it be easier, to find someone you think would prefer to do the Quest?”

“Well, maybe.” He says, putting one hand on his hip and the other on his chin. The ghostly hands, because the hands connected to him are on his hips. “Never as good as my first pick, though. I keep finding that out every time I get someone to do the Quest.”

“Well.” You say. “I think I know someone, who would definitely want to, you know, fight another god.”

He brightens. Literally. He’s a little hard to look at and then notices that you’re wincing. “Right, right, sorry, nocturnal species. Anyway, who were you thinking of?”

***

Your name is Aradia Megido and you definitely want to punch a god in the face. However, you may have misinterpreted this one’s invitation.


End file.
